The Sisters
by malcolm lake
Summary: A short autumnal piece that shows Xander at 5, 15, and 22.


_This is an autumnal elegy concerning Xander at the ages of 5, 15, and 22. Hope you like it, but let me know regardless_ - ml

**The Sisters**

I remember when I met the sisters. In fact, it's one of my most vivid childhood memories. I was five years old. We were visiting my grandmother. She lived in a beach house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was Halloween, and my mom had dressed me in a Batman costume. I still have the picture that my grandmother took of us before I went out in search of chocolate. If I do say so myself; I looked adorable.

My mom went with me as I stalked the neighborhood. The sisters lived about four blocks from my grandmother. I must have been trick or treating for some time before I came to their house. I remember that my orange plastic bag (which also served as a handy choking hazard) was heavy with candy.

The sisters lived in a white, wooden oceanfront house. Like most coastal homes, it was a multi-story structure built on stilts. The design minimized flooding damage during hurricanes. I knocked on the front door, and a blonde lady dressed as a witch answered. She wore a black dress and a pointy black hat. She even carried a broom.

"Tricka treat," I said as I extended the bag.

She looked down at me and was silent for a moment. "Come in," she finally said.

I waved to my mom, and walked into the house. She remained outside. She tried to instill confidence and self-reliance in me from an early age. It made it more fun for her and dad to crush it later.

I went up the stairs and into the living room. I can still picture it, decorated with black crepe paper streamers with cutouts of black cats and ghosts. Carved pumpkins lined the hallway. A red haired lady with pale green eyes and long red fingernails was sitting on the sofa. She wore black leather, her skin was pale, and she had plastic fangs, but she smiled when she saw me. On the coffee table in front of her was a bowl full of candy.

The blonde lady performed the introductions. "My name is Verity, and this is my sister Bella."

The other lady bowed her head slightly.

"I'm Batman," I said. I should note that my reading of the line was the same as Michael Keaton's and predated him by several years. I think someone owes me money.

The blonde lady looked down and me and said, "I kinda doubt it. First, you're too young and too short. Second, your utility belt is painted on the cloth. And third, Batman is a fictional character."

I wasn't ready for logical arguments at five years of age. In fact, I'm not really ready for them now. I just stood in the living room. I think that I managed to hold out my bag.

The red haired lady said, kindly, "I think the outfit is very nice. I particularly like the ears. I moved a little closer to her, and farther from the witch.

"He belongs to the Collins woman up the road," the witch said. "His mother is outside, and will wait another two minutes before she knocks on the door."

"Can I see your face?" the vampire asked. I took off my mask and looked at the lady.

"You have very pretty brown eyes." We traded smiles. She leaned close to me and smoothed my bangs.

The witch came over to me and covered my left eye with her hand before sighing. She walked over to the coffee table and took some mini candy bars from the bowl.

I looked at the candy and smiled at her. "Thank you. Hershey bars are my favorite."

"I thought they might be," she answered. She dropped the bars in my bag and smiled a sad little smile.

"So why do you like Batman?" The witch asked. "He's not super-powered. He can't even fly."

"Batman sees everything. He knows what's going on faster than anyone," I replied. "One day I will, too."

The witch seemed to like that answer. "That's cool. Really though, it's a good thing that you aren't Batman. His parents are killed when he's only a little older than you are now. You wouldn't like that. Although from what you have in store for you…"

She looked towards the door. "Your mom's about to knock, you should leave. Be careful," she said. I didn't think she was talking about trick or treating. It was as if she saw something terrible in store for me."

I looked at the witch and tried to figure out what to say. Finally, I ran outside and held on tightly to my mother's hand for the rest of the night.

----------------

It was almost a decade before I saw the sisters again. It was the summer after junior year. Mom and dad were in the middle of a bender. With Cordy on vacation, Buffy gone, and Willow spending her time with Oz, I needed to get out of Sunnydale.

Back at the Outer Banks, I tested my learner's permit by driving my grandmother to the grocery store. I also mowed the lawn, and in return I got an allowance and was able to spend most week days fishing on the pier. That was just down the road from the sisters' house. One day my grandmother had asked me to drop off some canned tomatoes as I went on my daily excursion.

I agreed, mostly because it gave me an excuse to drive illegally. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and walked up to the house, past a plastic pink flamingo in the yard. I knocked several times on the door, but no one answered. I was about to leave, when I heard a voice around the back of the house say, "I'm out here."

I walked around and saw her. It was the blonde sister. I had expected an old lady. That wasn't what I saw. She was lying in the sun on a cloth-covered patio chair, wearing a white bikini. She was stunning. I remember my grandmother telling me that a good boy always looked a woman in the eye, and soon realized that if that was the case, I was bound for hell, and I had a pretty good idea what that was like. The blonde smiled at me and I almost forgot how to breathe.

"Hi," she said. "Are those for me?" She asked, pointing to the jars. I managed to nod.

"Well thank you. I guess we need to get them inside." She leaned forward in her chair and got up. I used one of the jars to push my lower jaw shut.

As she walked, she asked me, "Who are you, again?"

"I'm Ms. Collins grandson, Xander." I kept repeating to myself, "Look at her eyes. They are blue."

"I'm Bella."

"I thought that you were Verity." I said, puzzled.

"Not today," she answered. Then she smiled again, and everything was right with the world.

The house was decorated with shells and paintings. There was one that looked like Bella in a long white robe. Another portrait resembled the red haired sister. The lady in the picture was wearing a low-cut beaded gown with long, flowing sleeves. In one corner there was a somewhat incongruous Star Wars poster.

A small, tiger-striped kitten was lying on the sofa. Bella picked up a string and played with the cat. Each time the cat leaped at the string, the young woman laughed and gave a little jump. She looked over at me and smiled.

I had to say something. I tried to sound cool and mature. "You look very nice today."

She almost laughed at me. "Don't even try it, little boy."

"Try what?" I asked, sounding very guilty.

"Believe me, you don't know a line that I haven't heard. And if you don't mind, could you try looking at my face when we're talking?"

"Sorry," I said. "It's just that you're so . . ."

"Yes, I know. And I could snap your ego like a twig if I have to, but I'd rather be friends. So let's just relax and talk for a minute."

At that moment, the front door opened and the red haired sister came in. She looked just as pretty as Bella. She had on a floppy straw hat and an oversized man's shirt that was unbuttoned. She had a on a green bathing suit that matched her eyes. She was carrying a red, plastic bucket.

"I found some pretty ones for you," she called to her sister. Then she saw me. "You're the Collins woman's grandson, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm Xander" I replied. "And I guess you're Verity. What did you find on the beach?" I looked in the bucket and saw rocks.

She saw that I was confused and said, "These are phosphate nodules. They're little treasure chests." She opened a drawer and removed a small hammer. "Some of them have shells or shark's teeth inside that were buried millions of years ago. Others are more recent."

She picked up one of the larger rocks and hit it with the hammer. It split neatly into two pieces. A small gold coin was visible along the break

Verity gave the coin to her sister. Bella held the coin to the window and looked at it in the light.

"Cool," Bella said. "You rock."

"Literally," the red haired sister replied.

I looked over her shoulder and tried to keep my eyes focused on the coin. "I think it's Spanish."

Verity looked impressed. "Very good. So tell me, what do you know about old coins?"

She smiled at me, and suddenly I wanted to impress her with my knowledge more than anything in the world.

"Well, I live in California, and I've seen some artifacts from the Spanish colonization. My friend, Willow, who kind of looks like you, told me that the Spanish exploration of North America dates back to the 1500s. I don't know when the first ones came out of Florida, I would imagine probably 1650 or so. So I would guess no Spanish ships came by the North Carolina coast before that time."

Verity gave me a little nod. "You're off by about 20 years, but that's not bad for a public school education."

"Thanks. You seem to know a lot about this stuff. I'd love to talk to you about it if you can spare a minute or two. Maybe some evening?"

Bella looked out the window and suddenly laughed. "Look! It's Mr. Johnson. He's pointing at the flamingo in our front yard and talking to himself."

"Don't look directly at his head," Verity said. "The reflection of the sunlight off his scalp could blind you, and I don't want to get a guide dog." She turned to me. "We're cat people," she explained.

I looked at the window and laughed at the sight of the old gentleman. He looked extremely angry.

"What's the story?" I asked.

"He passed around a petition on how front yards on the island should look," Bella said. "It was thirty-three pages long!" Verity exclaimed. "It starts with garbage day protocols and goes through disposal of Christmas trees. Apparently, he does not approve of flamingos."

"I don't think that they were mentioned in the petition," Bella said.

"They weren't. But you can bet that the next version of the petition will say that they are not allowed."

"Next version?" I asked.

"Currently, we are on the fifth revision of the initial petition," Verity said. "The sad thing is that there isn't one house in the area that meets all the conditions he proposes, not even his own."

I looked at Verity in disbelief.

"His mailbox is out of compliance. I haven't had the heart to mention it to him. I'm afraid that the little vein in his forehead will pop if I do."

"I can't imagine my grandmother's house offends him."

"Sorry," Bella said. "Visible religious items can be viewed through the front window. That could offend out of town visitors that aren't Christians."

"Yes, we wouldn't want to upset any of North Carolina's myriad of Buddhist tourists," Verity quipped.

She was so pretty and funny. I wanted to impress her with my wit, dazzle her with my intellect, win her heart with my brilliance . . .

"Calm down, Romeo," she said. She raised her hand above her head and said. "You must be at least this tall to take this ride."

I was embarrassed, and a little angry. But mostly, I just wanted to see more of the sisters. "Can I drop by sometime?"

Bella smiled and asked, "Who would you visit?"

"Both of you," I replied instantly.

"Not a bad answer," Verity said. "I was afraid you had forgotten about me over the last few months." I wasn't sure what she meant. She continued. "There's hope for you. But we are going to Athens tomorrow and you're going home in three days. Now run along quickly and try not to point that bulge in your pants at anything."

I think I stopped blushing sometime that evening. As Verity had said, three days later, I went back to my parent's house. I was too busy to visit grandmother very often. When I did, I couldn't justify leaving her to visit two women who must have been some kind of hormonal hallucination. I didn't think about them for a long time.

----------------

The Thanksgiving after the fall of Sunnydale, my mom got a call that my grandmother had died. We went there to pack up the contents of the beach house. One afternoon mom opened the front door and came back with a lasagna the sisters had dropped off. The next day, she asked me to take back the plate.

I walked to the sisters' house. I stopped on the way and looked out at the ocean. The sky and the waves were both pale gray. I was tired of everything. Tired of the fight, tired of the loss, tired of myself and my new limitations. I adjusted my eye patch and squinted into the breeze.

We had all changed so much; lost so much. Buffy turning so distant and brittle; Willow had become so powerful that she would change the world or even destroy it with little more than a thought. And I had become hard. Able to withstand the loss of everyone around me. Anya was gone. Joyce and Tara were dead. Buffy had died twice; each death taking its toll regardless of how we brought her back. And now the only family member I ever really wanted to impress was gone.

I let the pace of my breathing slow to match the waves rolling onto the beach. I watched the sea gulls gliding in the wind. I picked up a couple of phosphate nodules and skipped them into oncoming waves.

I waited as long as I could, but finally I went up the house and knocked on the door. The red headed sister answered. She looked exactly the same as when I had met her at the age of five. I finally recognized that she looked like Willow.

"Hi," I said. "Thanks for the lasagna. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not sure I remember your first name."

She smiled. "I'm Bella today. Why don't you come in?"

I hesitated.

"We'll be good. I promise," she said, smiling and holding her hand palm up as if testifying under oath.

I smiled and followed her into the house. She put the plate on the counter and led me into the living room. Her sister, the image of my departed friend Tara, was sitting on the sofa. The room was dim and quiet. I looked at the portraits on the walls, and was again struck by the resemblance to the sisters. Suddenly, I realized what they were.

"I'm very sorry about your loss," Verity said.

"Thank you," I answered. "I have the feeling you guys have been in this position many times before."

Verity smiled and gave a small nod. Bella merely reached down and picked up a fat tabby cat.

I remembered part of my last encounter with the sisters. "Is Mr. Johnson still acting crazed?"

Bella laughed, "Yes, but he's no longer living next door."

Verity said, "His children had him committed. I feel a little guilty about it. Last Christmas I found a really cute Star Wars Nativity Scene. It had the Princess as Mary, Han Solo was Joseph, Luke was baby Jesus; it was so neat. The three wise men were Yoda, Obi Wan, and Darth Vader. Mr. Johnson attacked it with an axe." She shrugged.

Bella continued, "When the guys from the City came to take him away, they found 4,000 copies of various versions of his neighborhood petition. They let us have them. Each one was spiral bound with a date on the front cover. We use them to light fires on cold nights."

I looked at the sisters in amazement. "How did you guys end up on an island in North freakin' Carolina?"

"We like it here. It's quiet and peaceful and nobody really notices us," Bella said.

"How can that be?" I asked. "You don't age, you're both gorgeous, and you're telling me nobody asks questions?"

"I don't think you understand. Most folks don't see us the way you do. We aren't revered in this society. If you don't care about what we represent, you see us as two quaint old ladies. Some people only see one of us," Verity answered.

"Why do I see you as beautiful, young women?"

Verity answered, "Because you care about what we represent in the truest sense."

I shook my head, "Maybe I did once. But as I've grown older, the list of things that I think I know gets shorter on a daily basis. And the failures of my love life have been so spectacular that I wonder how my heart keeps beating."

"You know that's not what we're talking about," Bella said. "You care about truth, and you strive for beauty of soul. You have a noble spirit."

"I'm not sure that counts for much in the world today," I said. "I'm no spiritual pilgrim. In some ways I think I've disappointed everyone that cared about me. Take my grandmother. She wanted me to be a minister. Instead, I work construction. She wasn't happy."

"Your grandmother loved you," Verity said. "She was very proud."

"Really?" I asked.

Verity answered, "I know. Of course, you weren't her favorite or anything . . ."

"Of course not," I replied without thinking.

"...That was your cousin, Rick," Verity continued.

"He's a babe," Bella said. "He looks like Trent Reznor."

"I guess he does" I admitted

"And he's a minister," Verity supplied. "And you're no Johnny Depp."

"But she did like you," Bella said. "She was a nice lady."

"Could she see both of you?"

"She saw me pretty well," Bella said. "She had more trouble with Verity."

"I can be a bitch," Verity said.

"So can I," Bella countered. She shook her fist at Verity, and they both laughed. Apparently there was some kind of a contest between them on this issue.

"We'll let Xander decide. Who's the bitch?" Bella asked. They both stared at me.

I answered diplomatically, "I think that you are both evil in your own delightful way."

Verity grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at me. I ducked that one, but Bella nailed me on the nose with another before I even thought to look at her. They both laughed at me, even as I threw the pillows back at them. That's when I remembered what had brought me back to the coast.

"I should leave," I said. "Mom will be waiting for me. I need to catch her before the fifth vodka Collins kicks in."

"I understand," Bella said. "When this is over, you could visit us if you want, maybe stay for a few days."

I smiled, then shook my head. "I think that you had the right idea the last time I visited you. I'm just not big enough to ride this ride. If I came in, I don't think I could leave. And people are counting on me. But thank you for the invitation. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Verity said as she gave me a quick hug. She reached up and touched the patch over my left eye. "We wish you all the best."

And so I left the house of Truth and Beauty and walked the quiet road back to my grandmother's house. I'd like to say I never looked back, but I of course did. And I still see the sisters in my dreams.

Sometimes I tell them I'll come back. And some nights I really wish that I could.

_Note - You know I couldn't call one truth and the other beauty when both are truthful and beautiful. That's why they shifted during the story. Besides, there's a point when truth and beauty are interchangeable_ - ml


End file.
